


Here's Mud In Your Eye

by elistaire



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Drinking Games, Fluff and Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 11:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19108996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elistaire/pseuds/elistaire
Summary: Role reversal. Richie finds his elders have been up all night drinking.





	Here's Mud In Your Eye

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2006. 
> 
> Original prompt from calime33: Methos, Duncan and an early morning ... possibly with coffee?
> 
> Definitely didn't create the toast, I've heard it lots of places, so not sure who to credit with it. I looked up the drink names (I'm not drinking these things at home). 
> 
> Just as a PSA -- coffee doesn't actually sober you up, only time and the steady workings of your liver will metabolize ethanol. Don't drink as much as the characters do, they're not real, they won't have any ill effects. 
> 
> Might be just a bit out of character (honestly, I can't ever really see MacLeod canceling early morning dojo classes), but maybe...everyone has a night where they throw caution to the winds, right?

Richie was pretty sure he could hear singing. He liked singing, singing was high on his list of fun activities, but at the current moment he was pretty sure singing was a Bad Sign.

For one thing, it was 5:30 in the morning. 

For the other, the song was--kinda, sorta--raunchy.

Richie let himself into the dojo and, sure enough, there was no Mac warming up and ready to teach him an early lesson or two. Based on the singing, he had a good guess where he'd find Mac. So, he climbed the stairs and let himself in, calling out that he was there so he wouldn't find himself with a sword to the gut. He shouldn't have bothered, as his Immortal presence didn't even seem to cause a hitch in the bawdy song.

In fact, his presence seemed to inspire Adam and Mac to new heights as they sang at the top of their lungs. "…and NE'R go home AGAIN!" they both bellowed, looking extremely pleased with themselves.

"Mac? What's going on? I thought we were going to, you know--" Richie jabbed the air with the good old one-two. "--spar." 

"In a minute, Rich, in a minute." Mac said sloshily and waved him down and pointed at Joe who was rubbing his beard something fierce. "After we get to the end. What were we at?"

On the couch, Adam flopped over on his back and stared up at the ceiling. He held his hands in front of him as if he were counting on his fingers. "Double-L U," he finally said. 

"Right." Mac nodded sagely. "U. Undertaker's Scourge? Do you know that one, Joe?"

"No, no," Adam said, sitting up again. "*Double*."

"Why double shots *now*?" Mac protested. "We've had single shots all night long!" 

"Not double shots," Adam corrected. "Dup-ble youse!"

"The letter W?" asked Richie, interrupting.

Adam pointed at him with one finger and touched his nose with the other. "Kid knows what I mean. One point to him."

"Oh, W, well why didn't you say so?" Mac threw up his hands.

Joe leaned forward. "Hey-ya, Rich." He looked at the bottles, glasses, ice bucket, and miscellaneous accoutrements spread out on the coffee table. "I can make a Widow's Kiss if we aren't out of apple brandy."

There was a scurry as everyone started checking the labels on the bottles. Richie stared at his mentor. "You guys have been up all night? Drinking?"

"Course!" Adam said proudly as he checked the same bottle twice, squinting at the words. "Yon barkeep boasted that he knew drinks for every letter of the alphabet. And yon pig-headed Scot boasted that he had the necessaries to make any drink said barkeep might desire."

"And yon mulish friend boasted that he could drink the rest of us under the table," Joe added. "Although since I'm making the drinks and a mere mortal, I only have to have a sip of each one to taste. Gotta keep my wits about me, you know."

"Unbelievable." Richie shook his head. "Un-fucking-believable." He shook his head again. "What about your morning dojo classes, Mac?"

"Canceled." Mac picked up a bottle and smiled. "A-ha!" He gave it to Joe. "Apple brandy." 

Joe eyed the bottle. "It's empty." 

"Doesn't count against me, though," Mac said, turning a wary eye to Adam. "We had the Mule's Hind Leg and that's what finished it off."

Adam snorted. "Fine. Conceded." 

"Are you guys *serious*?" Richie shouted. "You've been drinking all night? What if another Immortal came up here?"

"Pish," Mac said. "We've got enough, he could drink too! Plenty to share!"

"Argh!" Richie stomped into the kitchen. "Need some coffee to sober them up," he said to himself and set about his task, keeping an ear to the conversation behind him. At least they're almost done with the alphabet, he thought.

"Do we still have any grenadine?" Joe asked. "Good, good. How about a Wild Irish Rose?" Upon which Mac and Adam took to singing again, about wild Irish roses and how sweet they grew. 

With the coffee machine prepped and on, Richie turned to glare at the crew in the living area. "You should have at least locked the door!"

Adam rolled his eyes at him. "Who's turn to toast?" 

"Mine," said Mac. He raised his own glass. "Here’s to you, as good as you are, and here's to me, as bad as I am, and as bad as I am, and as good as you are, I'm as good as you are, as bad as I am!" He slurred his way through it, but Richie had heard it before and figured out what he meant. 

"Down the hatch," said Joe, and they all finished off their drinks.

Adam gestured at Mac with the hand he held his empty glass with. "Next time, new toast, you already said that one twenty times already!"

It happened so fast, Richie wasn't sure it was real, but he was pretty sure Mac stuck his tongue at Adam.

"Boys, boys," said Joe. "I need an X drink!"

Richie closed his eyes and turned away. He watched the coffee drip into the pot while behind him his three supposed adult role-models drank their way through Xylophone and Yellow Bird and--finally--Zamboanga Hummer." He poured three cups of black coffee and brought it over to the coffee table. 

"Drink this, all three of you," he said sternly. "You need to get sobered up."

"Ah, Rich," Mac said fondly. "Thanks, that's real, real good of you. You should have been here--hey, Joe, make that drink for him that was so good--the Freddy Fudpucker, wazzn't it?"

Adam punched Mac in the arm. "We didn't have the Fudpucker, we'd already used up the Galliano--we had the French Green Dragon."

"Yeah, well, Richie would have *adored* that drink."

Richie sighed. "Just drink the coffee."

"Yeah, drink your coffee," Adam drawled.

"I will. Seeing as I won--"

"You did not!" Adam tapped his chest. "I'm the last man standing. Look at you, if your eyes got any more bloodshot, you'd be blind."

"Yeah, but I had all the necessities!"

"And I made all the drinks," Joe chimed in.

The three of them stopped and stared at each other. 

 

"So, no one won?" Adam ventured. He put down his coffee, frowning.

"No, no," Richie said quickly. "You all won, look you all did what you said--" But his words fell on deaf ears.

"New contest," Adam said, looking up with a smile. "Coffee drinks."

"You're on," Mac said. 

"I'm in," Joe said.

Richie turned and went for the door.


End file.
